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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633152">In This Hell on Earth</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegrass/pseuds/bluegrass'>bluegrass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Outlast Magic [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Outlast (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(But it's not as dark as it sounds), Canon-Typical Violence, Casual Murder Sightings, First Meetings, Gen, Hogwarts Letters, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Human Experimentation, McGonagall just wants to stay a cat, Mount Massive Asylum, Severus hates everything about Mount Massive, This game should be a major warning tag by itself tbh, Walrider Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 07:53:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,896</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633152</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluegrass/pseuds/bluegrass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>To: Mr. Harry Potter<br/><i>Prison Ward, Block D<br/>Mount Massive Asylum for the Criminally Insane<br/>Lake County<br/>Colorado</i></p><p>Reading the address, Minerva feels her stomach turn from the inside out.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter &amp; The Twins (Outlast), Minerva McGonagall &amp; Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall &amp; Severus Snape &amp; The Twins (Outlast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Outlast Magic [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937563</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>128</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In This Hell on Earth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, you! You have to let us out of here! These bars won't stop the Walrider! It'll come for us, one by one, until we're all gone. Please. For the love of God.”</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <strong>I.</strong>
</p><p>Minerva is mostly unaware of the new students’ addresses when the Hogwarts letters are developed by Rowena’s ingenious and then sent out.</p><p>Her responsibilities as House Head and professor usually take precedence over remembering every name and home she signs her signature on. The process honestly becomes tedious after a while, but Minerva is genuinely pleased to invite fresh blood into their midst.</p><p>Yet call it what you will, she simply doesn’t have the time to manage the details of it before their acceptance. Hogwarts, though established in history and curriculum, is shamefully lacking in staff numbers.</p><p>On the occasion Minerva does have to make it her business to know a student’s address, it’s usually on two common cases.</p><p>Firstly, when the guardians or parents are in doubt of the validity of their child’s acceptance into a magical school. Muggles are kept in the secret for a reason, so Minerva can understand that particular confusion well enough.</p><p>These cases usually toss their letters out repeatedly, forcing an influx of owls to visit their doorstep until <em>somebody</em> gives in, all while inducing a varying range of hysterical breakdowns for the adults. The reactions are to each their own, but at least the child could be seen enjoying themselves. Minerva can empathise at the excitement of learning that one can learn actual magic.</p><p>Anyway, any doubts or questions can be easily handled and settled when Minerva is physically there to explain the ins and outs. Shaking her head and saying, no this was not an elaborate prank, then nodding: yes, admittance was implicitly compulsory to a certain extent if they wished to not find their child in another state entirely because an untrained Magical wished to escape a muggle test one day.</p><p>Sometimes, the parents react badly. With close-minded bigotry and hatred. Minerva personally hates dealing with those. Under no circumstance is the ugly words and abject rejection healthy for any child to witness. <em>Monster,</em> the people accuse, <em>freak.</em> If she had the power, those words ought to hold the same weight as mudblood and never be spoken ever again.</p><p>The silver lining of it is that Minerva has a high success rate of getting the child to attend Hogwarts anyway through a stern look and some. Severus’s record on that part is better than Minerva, but let it be said she’s no doll in making unreasonable, loud, and over 6ft of pure rage and unresolved issues men sweat like summer’s arrived early.</p><p>Lately, Minerva’s concerns have been focused solely on one of the uncommon occasions where she’s likely dealing with muggles – and unkind ones at that. She’s had reason to believe so ever since during her daily patrols throughout the school have brought her to the owlery.</p><p>In the once busy cloud of shed feathers that normally encompassed the floor, and in the expectation of staccato hooting that filled the room, Minerva could now see her reflection on the stone as the owlery grew more and more silent with every passing day. There are decidedly less owls than what Hogwarts had started out with.</p><p>All because one letter refuses to be responded to; whether in rejection or acceptance, and Minerva has yet to know who the student is. She had elected to visit the owlery before the office where the letters are written, thinking that it’d be better if she finished her duties once and for all before taking another.</p><p>Confused parents demonstrate a pattern of giving in on the third day or so, understanding that there is at least <em>some</em> sort of supernatural power in charge of sending owls to their backyard trees on a daily basis. This one has continued for several days already, and Minerva frowns when three Hogwarts owls return at around the same time she steps inside the owlery.</p><p>Their feathers are soaked down to the root, dripping a lake beneath their clawed feet as they shiver and huddle together. This trio have the shortest patience among the flock Hogwarts keep. The skies are as clear as it can be on a night without clouds, so the owls have mostly likely come from a place that’s been raining.</p><p>Minerva checks the wards and finds out that the owls were sent out four and five days ago respectively, one per day and evening. This means that the messengers have been travelling for at least two days give and take. A frown pinches her brows together, and Minerva wonders just where the magical owls have travelled back and forth to that warranted such long journeys.</p><p>Attentive to the owls’ needs, the owlery’s heating is automatically turned on by the house-elf in charge. Only one side of the room is heated however, in consideration of the still-dry owls that did not look like they’ve warred against a storm like wearied marines. They certainly look pitiful and traumatised enough for the metaphor to be appropriate.</p><p>Minerva closes in on the bunch, intent on casting a drying and warming charm to ease their shivering figures. She earns an accusing nip for her efforts and Minerva doesn’t even bother suppressing the wry smile that surfaces.</p><p>“I believe we have quite the special case on our hands,” she tells them, and breathes out a tired sigh when the owls bob their heads in strong agreement.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>II.</strong>
</p><p>To: Mr. Harry Potter</p><p>
  <em>Prison Ward, Block D</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mount Massive Asylum for the Criminally Insane</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lake County</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Colorado</em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>III. </strong>
</p><p>Minerva gapes, daunted and dumbfounded, at the newest copy of the envelope that’s addressed to one Harry Potter, son of the deceased James Potter and Lily Evans who as far as Minerva remembers, is supposed to be with his remaining relatives in Surrey. And decidedly not in a Merlin-damned mental institution for the bloody criminally insane that’s additionally all the way over in the United States.</p><p>Harry Potter is a mere boy. Minerva feels her stomach turn from the inside out.</p><p>Saviour or not, Harry is eleven – only a year since he’s finished his first decade – and it is unheard of for anybody his age and counting to be imprisoned in the muggle equivalent of Azkaban and the sixth floor of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.</p><p>Horribly understaffed and lifelessly dull, the floor people don’t talk about, the unsaid taboo looked upon with bated breath for fear that speaking of it will cause them to be afflicted with the same mental illness patients have been diagnosed that is curable by neither magic nor potion or even ancient artefact.</p><p>She crushes the envelope in her hands, feeling an insurmountable amount of rage surge from her very core. It conjures thunder in her ears and strikes lightning through her blood. Minerva can’t see past the vile thing whispering truths in her mind to think rationally.</p><p>Is it worth it in the end? Worth sending the boy away from people she could’ve trusted, and then justifying their actions by saying that Harry would have a good, normal childhood hidden away from fame and arrogance.</p><p>Minerva’s hatred is boundless, her trust a shattered window on the ground as she buries it with bleeding hands. She hates Dumbledore who had promised and assured her that leaving Harry was worth it; she hates herself for believing the twinkle in his eyes even though she’d told him how the Dursleys weren’t good people.</p><p>Forget Harry Potter, revered saviour and vanquisher of You-Know-Who, the boy is probably the first child patron saint to exist that governs over suffering regardless of anyone’s good (or bad – the face of Lily’s sister flashes in Minerva’s memory,) intentions. No point denying it; the Dursleys have proven themselves so cruel and inhuman that Minerva has little problem believing the worst.</p><p>On the off chance that she’s wrong, Harry Potter has probably been sent to Mount Massive even before he turned eleven.</p><p>She’s just found out and she’s already too late for the second time in her life.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>IV.</strong>
</p><p>Severus’s day has been slow, crawling by at a pace that’s almost intolerable. The development of the following year’s lesson plans is the only thing left keeping him up from having a healthy sleep of six hours and it’s just another reason why he dislikes his job. He’d rather much prefer missing sleep while measuring moonlight for a particular ingredient over planning lessons he’s been teaching for years on end.  </p><p>He’s in his office contemplating the benefits of switching up the curriculum when an impatient series of knocks echoes loudly. Severus turns, an instinctive scowl plastered on as McGonagall’s voice rises from the other side.</p><p>“Professor Snape. It’s urgent, please.”</p><p>Severus is standing before he knows it, feet taking him right towards trouble and another reason why he’ll spend the night in bed regretting every of his life decisions until sleep overtakes him. <em>This better be worth my time,</em> he thinks; out loud he says, “It’s well after visitation hours, professor.”</p><p>“And I’ll eat my wand in your name if you won't listen before turning me away.”</p><p>He knows frowning will emphasise the wrinkles on his face even more, but… “Come in,” Severus motions reluctantly. His arms feel like lead.</p><p>“Thank you.” McGonagall’s hard expression crumbles, revealing the urgent desperation beneath, coupled with guilt and emotional exhaustion and Severus hates to even think how he’s intimately familiar with how McGonagall is probably feeling. All the way down to the detail of her tear-reddened eyes. “Don’t thank me,” he says, and finds that he means it.</p><p>“I’ll spare you my story,” the witch says pointedly. She reaches into the pocket of her robes and takes out a paper ball crushed beyond repair. It looks like rubbish found in any wastepaper basket, but Severus recognises the flaking Hogwarts seal. He takes it, spreads it out the best he can. A Hogwarts letter. A Hogwarts letter addressed to –</p><p><em>To Mr. Harry Potter</em>.</p><p>Shame is the first thing he feels. Then anger, followed by the hefty weight of guilt, and then its frozen into a deliberate calm that comes from his occlumency shields reminding him who he is and how he’s survived one of the greatest Dark Lords in history.</p><p>McGonagall should know better, though. He looks up at her and his Slytherin mask is a careful blank that’s crafted to unsettle. His colleague isn’t the least bit affected. She stands her ground and puffs up her chest, “Read the rest.”</p><p>Severus can hear his teeth grind.</p><p>“Don’t miss a word,” McGonagall says, and her voice cracks at the end. This catches Severus attention because McGonagall sounds close to pieces and the lady he’s known from his student days is a sturdy rock that never chips. She’s cracking now; Severus hates it.</p><p>
  <em>Prison Ward, Block D</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mount Massive Asylum for the Criminally Insane</em>
</p><p>Severus is going to kill somebody. Dumbledore boasts highest on the list. After the murder, Severus will then peacefully resign from Hogwarts and live his days in peace away from civilisation but someplace close to a potions ingredients distributor.</p><p>“He was supposed to be safe,” he almost yells.</p><p>“I <em>believed</em> he was safe,” McGonagall hisses.</p><p>“Then explain this.” Severus damn near throws the envelope into his colleague’s face. He wants to become a snake and crawl into a dark hole and hibernate there for the rest of the decade. Severus tells himself to keep the civility because he doubts McGonagall will be willing to teach him to become an Animagus if he actually does carry out his first desire.</p><p>The floor is certainly interesting during this time of the year. <em>“Lily’s son,”</em> he absolutely does not dry sob.</p><p>“I plan on getting him out without Dumbledore’s knowledge.” Because the headmaster can be stubborn and disgustingly too optimistic; Severus hears what she doesn’t say from miles away. Yet another pawn that’s escaped his board. Severus should mark today for celebration.</p><p>Still, Dumbledore's name alone is toxic to his health. “You’ve prepared an international portkey so quickly?”</p><p>McGonagall shakes her head solemnly. “No, but I can have it through before the weekend.”</p><p>“No need. I’ll have it by tomorrow. Pack whatever you must, we leave as soon as possible.”</p><p>The teaching plan is forgotten entirely after McGonagall leaves quietly. Severus has no energy to even glance at it either way. He feels too small for his skin, added with a dash of stress-sourced migraine, Severus transfigures his couch into a bed and lies down on it in the position of the vampire his students suspect him to be.</p><p>The fireplace crackles. It's cold down in the dungeons. Potter’s life-debt is a low consistent thrum in his magic core.</p><p>Lily would’ve been so disappointed.</p><p>Bloody hell.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>V.</strong>
</p><p>Long distance international portkeys are nauseating events. Minerva herself has convinced herself to use it five times at most throughout her sixty-something years. It’s much easier on the stomach to stay down if she takes multiple portkeys along the way instead of one spin to another continent entirely. There’s furthermore a business that cheapens the total cost of it, so Minerva is partial to that option instead.</p><p>Guessing by the slight tinge of green Severus is sporting, the man must sympathise. The two of them stop several feet away from the gates of Mount Massive on an early evening. It had been the earlier Severus could arrange their transport, and much to their embarrassment they’d forgotten to take in consideration the time difference between Scotland and the United States.</p><p>The sun’s already set in Colorado. Fog has started to creep in on the mountain, a subtle chill crawling up Minerva’s spine despite wearing a thicker set of robes. Goosebumps have broken out all over her body and every feline instinct influenced by her Animagus form is screaming at her, yowling and screeching and hissing to keep far away from this place, but Minerva rationalises the urge.</p><p>She’s Gryffindor, house of the brave and honourable. And Harry’s here.</p><p>Something isn’t right with Mount Massive Asylum.</p><p>“There’s nobody manning the boom gate,” Minerva intones blandly. Severus nods and goes over anyway, entering the little empty guard house – morals damn him. “The phone line’s severed,” he says speculatively. Meanwhile, the fog simply grows heavier and heavier the longer they spend outside. Severus peers his dark eyes upwards at the increasingly cloudy sky and casts a weather forecast charm.</p><p>“A storm’s coming. I suggest we seek shelter in the asylum until it goes away. If Fate shall have it, the boy comes with us instead of staying.”</p><p>But the door goes unanswered no matter how loudly Minerva knocks, no matter how loud their voices get. There’s simply dead silence coming from within, and nothing to indicate the bustling presence of patients and nurses and visitors. Minerva rears back slowly from where she's put her ear close to the door and purses her lips.</p><p>Supposedly, a wandless <em>Alohomora</em> will get them in no trouble. The spell is thankfully simple enough, but it takes quite a bit of energy from her when she doesn’t use the focus point that’s her wand. Excess magic is dispersed inefficiently that way. She’s out of practice; practice of which is in order once they return to Hogwarts.</p><p>The large double doors unlock with a click as it creaks open slowly. A sickly yellow light shines from the growing vertical gap of the entrance. Minerva and Severus step inside Mount Massive Asylum and right after they do, the door slams behind them like magic. Maybe it’s the wind that’s kicking up.</p><p>Severus’s eyes widen into the size of dinner plates, and so does Minerva’s own. “What–”</p><p>Her colleague is probably affected most by the sight, but scent is what hits Minerva first and particularly worse. It is to note that her sense of smell and sound are enhanced because of her status as a cat Animagus. It’s a double-edged sword most days and today definitely, because the first thing that she processes is the heavy iron scent of blood: Blood of the living, blood of the dead.</p><p>She <em>wishes </em>that is all. </p><p>Rot, terror, urine, faeces.</p><p>Pleasure, hope, wrath, ejaculate. </p><p><em>“Mother Hecate,”</em> Minerva gasps, and empties her dinner all over the checker floor. </p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>VI.</strong>
</p><p>Their asylum from the storm is no sight for sore eyes, no comfort away from the beating liquid cold. Severus sees the blood splattered like a mockery of art on the entrance counter first; after which he notices the bodies slewed carelessly over the hall just several steps away, and what looks sickeningly like their organs are spilled messily from the host of their bodies.</p><p>They look like dissected animals on the chopping board for his potions’ needs</p><p>Out of the tens of simulations Severus had played out in his head of Mount Massive, dead people had not made it on the list. The gruesome sight of a headless body overtakes his entire view, and as far as Severus can digest, the face to this person is nowhere close, but the brain matter burst on the marble does tell tales.</p><p>He closes his eyes slowly and feels his blood clump like slushed ice. Suddenly, he’s transported back into the past eleven years ago, cradling the body of his once-best friend as she lies motionless in his arms. Lily’s death had been bloodless, but the shuddery feeling throughout his chest was the same.</p><p>Mount Massive’s lobby is deceptively quiet, a fitting soundtrack for the solemn picture. For a moment, the only sounds Severus can hear are faded things in the distance: glass breaking and miserable screaming. <em>“Mother Hecate,”</em> and then McGonagall is throwing up beside him and Severus listens to her dry heaving as the air becomes heavy with the pungent scent of bile and regurgitated chicken porridge she had hours ago at Hogwarts.</p><p>Severus himself had some bread spread with butter and jam. it was breakfast food, but he couldn’t stir up the appetite to have anything more. Thank Merlin for that.</p><p>Wandlessly Severus casts, <em>“Scourgify,” </em>and the mess is clean in seconds as McGonagall gradually regains a semblance of her famous composure. Severus is the last to judge; wizards and witches are generally used to broken bones and missing limbs, but to set one’s senses on corpses born of cruelty is never easy.</p><p>“We can find Potter in the prison ward,” Severus states in lieu of asking if his colleague is alright. She’s obviously miles away from such a state, and Severus refuses to be the pitying dunderhead that asks the obvious.</p><p>“Thank you, Severus. We best get going,” McGonagall says while dabbing her mouth with a handkerchief.</p><p>They don’t question the absurdity of everything – the how and why and when; they don’t call for any authorities either, because the Wizarding World is still recovering from a war of its own making, so it’s honestly unsurprising that the muggles have the same if displayed on a smaller scale here. And perhaps they’re raising a version of a Dark Lord in the Asylum, which would make authority do no good in this hell on Earth.</p><p>Additionally, Severus and McGonagall are here without permission and about to stage what is technically a kidnapping.</p><p>It’s best they focus on getting the boy out of here before dealing with the moral consequences of leaving the muggles in a ditch of their making. Severus suspects McGonagall would actually do something to help them later on, but their priority is first and foremost Potter’s spawn.</p><p>Spawn that didn’t deserve Mount Massive no matter what his parents did.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>VII.</strong>
</p><p>Having lived through two wars, Minerva can safely say she knows how predictable humans can be when they justify their actions to enact murder and torture like it’s their life’s calling. People can be cruel and indifferent, liable to deny their wrongs just because they’ve known nothing but being right. Fanatics scare her, zealous followers of the Dark Lord do too. Most recently, the Wizarding World that are like sheep to the Daily Prophet when journalist like Rita Skeeter exists.</p><p>There’s just something horrifying about losing herself to a crowd, something terribly real in living in someone’s beginning and end and not knowing where one stands and being alright with that. Are her beliefs hers? Or the person beside her? Will she one day forget the reason she defends muggleborns instead of condemning them?</p><p>Coming here is the worst decision she’s made this year thus far. It’ll be an unforgettable memory that’ll haunt her sleep for as long they walk the corridors of Mount Massive and even after they depart from it.</p><p>Insanity has seeped through the walls of this place – peeled and cracked and decayed; it bleeds through the wallpaper and into the air and her lungs and despite having casted the strongest disillusionment charm she’s capable of, Minerva doesn’t think she’ll be able escape without losing just a bit of herself with every exhale.</p><p>There are miraculously an even number of living and dead alike, and the further in she and Severus venture into the asylum, Minerva can feel a change take place inside of her in the automatic answer her question of: <em>what was I expecting?</em> Is responded with.</p><p>Gradually, a part of her was hoping that everyone else would be dead save for the boy. Because she sees the men with glazed eyes and popped veins and it seemed almost merciful somehow. She’s no right to determine it so, of course, but her thoughts are uncontrollable when everyone here is beyond salvation.</p><p>Can she be blamed for treating them like animals? When just a mere three feet of her, a bald, emaciated man is murdered by purposeless beheading. The scent of blood and bowel release is so pungent Minerva chokes on it. The chuckling killer – bald as well, but muscular and towering in a way no man should be if resources are cut off from here – then whips his head to her direction and Minerva’s heart stops for a split second.</p><p>Severus is the one to pull her away by the wrist. He’s looking rather green himself, dragonhide boots practically dripping with human innards. He looks as haunted as Minerva feels and her imagination is suddenly driven to picturing her finding Harry not as alive as she’d like.</p><p><em>Alohomora.</em> The gate to the stairway opens.</p><p>It only gets worse from then on.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>VIII.</strong>
</p><p>Severus nearly dies twice in this wretched cesspit before they finally reach the boy in all his scarred glory.</p><p>The first time death grazes its fingers across his cheeks like a lover scorned is when Severus’s hip accidentally knocks over a crumbling blockade of desks and chairs while glancing wearily at his surroundings. He’s been on edge since stepping inside the entrance, and his stressed mistake of inattentiveness almost costs him an arm or leg, if not life entirely.</p><p>They’ve arrived at the Prison Block, and Severus has seen more in the last twenty minutes than in an entire war that’s convinced him to go into retirement. Because the patients, insane as they may be, are neither blind nor deaf. Severus’s disillusionment charm falters momentarily once, and it’s in the blink of an eye that a patient, sitting formerly catatonic on his bed in a filthy cell, jumps at him instinctively with unseeing eyes.</p><p>“THIS IS THE EXPERIMENT!” His scream pierces sharper than a banshee, skeletal hand lucky enough to reach through and grab at his robes in an iron grip. Spittle flies everywhere, the sores on the man’s body gapes and leaks and – “THIS IS THE EXPERIMENT THIS IS THE EXPERIMENT THIS IS THE EXPERIMENT–”</p><p>Severus jerks backwards like the words burn him, tearing his robes in the process but he can’t give a rat’s arse. His heart is pounding so loudly that he swears his hands shake with the force of its pulse. Severus watches the man continue to scream hoarsely and finds that for the first time in years, he is afraid.</p><p>Minerva offers a calming hand but it drops immediately when she catches him recoiling from the touch.</p><p>The second time is to a pair of twins as naked as the day they’re born. Severus and McGonagall’s magic reserves were growing increasingly lower keeping up the disillusionment charm, and the corridor had looked empty enough to appear safe but no less unsettling. Yet he trusted the emptiness to keep them out of direct harm’s away. At least, that was how it was supposed to be.</p><p>Instead, they step into the presence of naked men, dangerous men. Men with blood on both their chests and hands, near their mouths that Severus’s brain screams at him to not think about. Severus and McGonagall are barely out of reach from behind a locked barred gate the twins stare at them from.</p><p>Relief doesn’t cover a fraction of what Severus feels at the meagre barrier. He forgets he’s a wizard when the first twin asks, “Who’s this?”</p><p>“The boy’s people,” the second twin replies. “They have the same air.”</p><p>If there’s any doubt who the two are talking about, it’s wiped away at the following conversation the brothers have among themselves. Yet Severus listens and <em>learns.</em></p><p>“They look nervous.”</p><p>“I would like to kill him,” the bald twin states. Eyeing him from top to bottom, the other says, “As would I.”</p><p>“The preacher asked us not to.”</p><p>“It would be impolite.”</p><p>They glance at each other, as though remembering; “The boy would be sad.”</p><p>“It would be unpleasant.”</p><p><em>The boy would be sad.</em> Mentioned twice, Severus knows the boy they speak of is the boy they’re looking for. Because what other child than a magical one has even the slightest chance of surviving Mount Massive?</p><p>But Severus can’t be absolutely sure. He can’t cast Legilimens if his wand is inaccessible to him and he can’t use his wand if he wants their little rescue to go unnoticed by the Ministry. Frustration nips at him like an annoying pest.</p><p>Whatever plan Severus is spinning like a waterwheel in the face of a running flood is ruined when McGonagall’s Gryffindor bravery convinces her to open her mouth unprovoked. “You know where Harry is? Tell us.” Her gaze is hard and stubborn, desperate. Severus understands wanting to get this over with; he does not understand trying to communicate with people on different mental wavelengths entirely.</p><p>Everyone here is short a marble or twenty. Severus braces himself to Apparate himself and his colleague out, authorities be damned. Dumbledore has the power to bullshit a reason for their bail anyway.</p><p>“We’ll give you a chance,” the first twin says.</p><p>“That we will,” the second one says, amused.</p><p>“For the boy.”</p><p>“The Walrider.” The second twin’s tone edges affectionate if he’s even capable of such emotion.</p><p>The first twin nods and steps closer to the bars. “We’ll give you a headstart. There’s an idea.”</p><p>“I want the man’s tongue and liver.”</p><p>The smirk is more heard than seen in the bald brother’s voice. “They are yours.”</p><p>Whether it’s due to their nakedness or familiarity with the asylum that makes them catlike in their footsteps and hunting, Severus is a touch too slow when the mockingly leisure chase starts. He loses a hand while trying to tug free his flowing robes caught by the grip of an inmate he runs by, and Severus bleeds and bleeds and bleeds.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>IX.</strong>
</p><p>McGonagall is relatively safe from dismemberment as a cat. She’s nimble in this form, quick on her feet, and equipped with remarkable night vision. Fatigue is pronounced in Severus’s steps. The hand he lost can be recovered easily if the cut is clean. Severus assures her it is, and McGonagall spares a second to purr while rubbing against his pant leg despite its filth.</p><p>Complex thought is challenging in this form, but Minerva knows what to do. She knows their goal as clear as day, scents the air for a hint of kits. Children on the cusp of puberty have a specific scent due to their imbalanced hormones. It’s a failed attempt when the patients’ hormones are pretty much… fucked in general.</p><p><em>No wonder they’re all crazy,</em> Minerva thinks simply.</p><p>Her tail is tucked between her legs but they get there eventually.</p><p>Mount Massive is like a maze but the night vision is immensely helpful in manoeuvring around. She doesn’t realise how many nooks and crannies, twists and turns, doors and pathways they’ve missed until the darkness opens to a visible scene.</p><p>Harry Potter isn’t at the Prison Block.</p><p>Minerva never wants to go there ever again. It says a lot when the sight of one inmate knocking his head on the wall repeatedly is the tamest thing she’s seen since her arrival here. They’re just leaving like their fur is on fire when Severus makes a noise that sounds like a half sob. The dear has to think, the poor thing. Minerva only wants to hunt down her kit and bring it back to her box that smells like ink and books.</p><p>She may know nothing else if she wants to as a cat with a brain two sizes smaller in comparison to a human, ignore suffering and the cracked rib she’s probably sporting because of a big man from earlier that had managed to squeeze her in a sudden burst of crazed energy. “No! I can hear it!” he’d yelled frantically to her face. Minerva had to scratch him blind before he released her.</p><p>Severus whips out his wand, everything about him in disarray and dusty as he looks half mad with determination. “<em>Point me,</em> Harry Potter,” he hisses, and Minerva actually shows her support by purring very loudly.</p><p>Should’ve done that much earlier. Why the hesitation again?</p><p>Minerva regards Severus, questioning. The wizard is pale and he nurses his handless arm preciously. “My tolerance for the Ministry fools may be low, but it’s infinitely better than remaining here a second more than I have to," he answers, and <em>ah,</em> absolutely understandable.</p><p>The point-me then leads them to a chapel connected to the Mount Massive’s main buildings. The door opens like it’s been expecting them, and Minerva places a paw through the doorway and waits. Her ears flicker impatiently, but she is weary. The thick iron scent is no better in the religious shelter. Not to mention the uniformed men waiting inside, standing and judging. They don’t move, and neither does Minerva and Severus.</p><p>“Do come in,” a soft, boyish voice says from deep in. “They won’t hurt you.”</p><p>The furs on Minerva’s neck bristles. She hisses and growls, and Severus glances at her tiredly. “The portkey’s accessible in five minutes,” he informs quietly.</p><p>Two hours and fifty-five minutes they’ve lasted here. It had felt like forever.</p><p>She buries her hesitation and drags herself into the chapel. The blasted twins are there and Minerva jumps nervously when they glance at her curiously. “A cat,” the bald one says.</p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p>“Fickle creatures.”</p><p>“Too smart for their own good,” the twins say together in eerie unison while they start to follow slowly behind them.</p><p>Minerva tries to lift her head to walk proudly but it hangs in the middle – barely – nevertheless.</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>X.</strong>
</p><p>The Potter boy looks nothing like his father.</p><p>He looks nothing like Lily either.</p><p>Severus can’t spot the famous lightning scar from where its obscured by the mess of dark inky hair – wherein seems to be the only thing Severus find as far as paternal resemblance goes. Other than that, Potter’s eyes literally glow a sickly green that’s nothing like Lily’s brilliant forest green.</p><p>He’s scarred as well. From wrist and probably up to the shoulders. Large vertical cuts must've been carved grotesquely into Potter's flesh, stitched carelessly, and now the boy has skin like closed zippers. It's by far the sole flaw Severus can see on the surface as Potter lacks the sores many of the majority of the inmates have. Although strangely enough, Severus has noted how the twins are lacking in both scars and sores entirely.</p><p>The boy’s too skinny frame is sitting on the dirty altar up front, the large wooden crucifix fixed behind him piecing the picture together rather poetically considering how a whole crowd of inmates are kneeling by the piers. Their hands are clasped in prayer as they feverishly worship a false god in the form of a child. Potter’s unholy gaze peers down at them and an unnatural shadow pours from his skin. Severus’s first and most logical thought is: Obscurus.</p><p>“Are you the owners of the owls?” Potter asks kindly, and Severus has no idea how long Potter’s been trapped here, but he retains a British accent with a subtle lisp like he’s only recently learned to talk.</p><p>“We are,” Severus says, then waits.</p><p>“I couldn’t answer.” The boy cocks his head and gestures widely at the clearing of men. “Couldn’t leave. I had to stay.”</p><p>McGonagall has apparently forgotten to be human. She meows, though, and is visibly frustrated when no one understands her. The Animagus form is honest, Severus supposes; the woman in the cat is absolutely terrified of leaving the safety of her feline form and it shows.</p><p>“I wasn’t allowed to have a kitty, back then,” Potter smiles, a small and shy thing. “Are you here to give it to me? The others have already.”</p><p>The Slytherin in him hisses, <em>play along, Severus.</em> “Our offering is somewhere else. You’ll need to follow us out.”</p><p>“You’re not going anywhere,” one of the twins states menacingly, and has Severus mentioned how he hated the twins? Because he really does, and the invasive hand on his shoulder is too firm to not remind him of his father's own. Severus hates the twins, hates them more than James Potter and his little petting zoo of friends at the rate this is going.</p><p>But then Potter’s smile drops like an anchor at sea. “Take your hands off him,” he orders coldly, and there’s none of his previous politeness in it. The boy’s presence suddenly feels three times its original size and a black haze bursts forward, slamming the twins backwards into the walls.</p><p>The kneeling worshipers tremble, pleading and praising and praying.</p><p>“O-oh, My Lord.”</p><p>“Lord Walrider!”</p><p>“The twins – mercy, Lord, p-please…”</p><p>“Thanks be to God. May your will be done, now and forever...”</p><p>The haze takes the figure of a serpent, wrapping itself around Potter like a living scarf, bringing whispers and indecipherable murmurs in the space it consumes. Potter frowns and it's obvious he’s struggling to control the thing that’s obviously connected to him some way. The creature is calm when he is – demonstrated by the lack of a massacre whose signs are evident everywhere in this chapel.</p><p>Potter sighs and he sounds too old for his age. “I need to take care of them,” he says in an unprompted explanation.</p><p>Severus grits his teeth; “Them.”</p><p>“Yes, them. My friends, mine. There’s no food if I don’t give. No water if I don’t purify. I don’t want your gift anymore. Go. You don’t belong here.”</p><p>As the sole sane human being in the room, Severus decides to cut his losses by grabbing McGonagall’s yowling body and activating the portkey. This isn’t a battle he can fight and win without losing something important. The Order of the Phoenix may have a use yet.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone! So, I recently rewatched playthroughs of all the Outlast games and this idea kind of stuck with me. This is the second time I've actually tried to write horror or something like it, so I hope y'all like this because it's basically a trial/ experiment/ wtf-am-I-doing work. I plan on writing three other fics with Harry having some kinda role per game. </p><p>Let me know what you think. And if you enjoyed this, do leave a Kudos and comment on your way out. They motivate me to write and put a smile on my face for the rest of the day!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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